


Pain in the Asp

by raunchyandpaunchy



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Crack, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, No Sex, One Shot, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Barons of Move Like This, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 23:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raunchyandpaunchy/pseuds/raunchyandpaunchy
Summary: 'Belly Magic and Other Lessons from the Barons of Move Like This', the cover had read, and Nadine had only been too eager to take a peek inside. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now, as she flicked through the book with something between fascination and terror, she began to question her judgement.Nadine and Brynjolf decide to try something new in the Sanctum. It goes about as well as you might expect.





	Pain in the Asp

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this fic as part of a challenge the r/fanfiction Discord lovingly dubbed "The Cursed Position Smut Challenge", and hoo boy, they weren't wrong. [This](http://sexpositions.club/positions/169.html) is the position I ended up rolling.
> 
> I also got to adopt [Syllis'](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syllis) wonderful OC, Cyrelian, to lend a hand and snark about risk awareness. She writes an amazing fic of her own following his journey, as well as a side fic following his discovery of the Sanctum--both are so brilliant and absolutely worth reading! <3
> 
> Full blame for this goes to the r/fanfiction Discord for the challenge (y'all know who you are), and my partner for suggesting the turn where Old Man Bryn takes his back out.

Cushioned plushness lay under Nadine, her toes curling into the furs at her feet. With one hand, she smoothed the emerald sheets that she sat on; with the other, she curiously turned to the next page in the book that sat atop her bare thighs. _Belly Magic and Other Lessons from the Barons of Move Like This_ , the cover had read, and Nadine had only been too eager to take a peek inside.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now, as she flicked through the book with something between fascination and terror, she began to question her judgement. And the others’, for that matter.

“How in Gods’ names can you even do half of these?” She rotated the book, attempting to make sense of an especially complex position. “You’d have to be a contortionist, or some kind of… sex mage.”

“Or a Khajiit,” Brynjolf said. Nadine turned to face him, eyes widening in surprise. “What? I get around.” He winked. “So do they, actually. Very flexible.”

Nadine returned to the book. “Half of these positions I don’t even get the appeal of. What is anyone getting out of this one?” She pointed to an image of a woman squatting over a man curled into a ball. “Unless he’s got some kind of massive, snake-like cock, there’s no way that’s fitting in anywhere, surely.” Her nose wrinkled. “This one just looks like she’s using the man as an outhouse.”

“There are people who are into that, you know,” Brynjolf grinned.

A small huff escaped Nadine as she turned the page. “Ooh, this one looks doable, at least.” A woman straddled a man, situated between his spread legs and faced away from him.

“Pfft. Give me something challenging at least, lass.” Brynjolf gestured at the illustration opposite, of a man lifting a woman in something that resembled half lovers’ embrace, half logman’s lift, using their mouths to pleasure each other. “What about this?”

Words eluded Nadine for a moment. “You’re serious.” She turned back to Brynjolf, his bright green eyes twinkling with mischief. “Gods, you bloody _are_ serious.” She rubbed her temple. “Bryn, you do realise I’m short, and round, and in no way built for this kind of activity, and it looks like the kind of thing that’d need a military soldier to attempt—”

“Are you saying you don’t think I’m up to the task?” Brynjolf said, puffing his chest in a farcical display of bravado.

Nadine rolled her eyes, pawing at the auburn curls that traced his chest. “I’m saying I’ve grown attached to my skull, and I’d like to keep it intact.”

“Well, I can promise,” Brynjolf purred, planting kisses along Nadine’s shoulders, collarbone, neck, “that I’ll hold tight and not let go, no matter how fantastic a job you might be doing. Sound good?”

It sounded highly dubious, but the more rational part of Nadine’s mind was currently being drowned out by the caress of calloused hands against bare skin and Brynjolf’s breath hot against the nape of her neck. She leaned into the touch, giving herself over slightly to the heat pooling fierce in her gut. It would be fun to try something new, something exciting. Plus, Drevis was there, invisible and watching. The whole thing had been his idea. He’d look out for them, wouldn’t let anything untoward happen.

“I’ll try anything once, I suppose.”

“That’s my lass,” Brynjolf hummed approvingly, sucking a rough kiss against Nadine’s shoulder, teeth grazing, just hard and lingering enough to leave her breathless and throbbing. She could feel the bruise already bloom on her shoulder. She hoped it’d be the only one. “Now, I think the best way to do this is to have you do a handstand on the bed. Do it against the posts if you need support.”

 _If I need support._ Anyone who wasn’t an acrobat would need support and a prayer. Still, she complied, feeling the bed give under her palms as she pushed her weight down on them, elevating her body and curling her leg around the post for anchorage. It was wobbly and likely incredibly ungraceful, but as long as Nadine could complete the task unharmed, she didn’t care. Her arms burned as she gave herself one final push, and she was upside down, shaky but steady enough. The room swirled around her, small dots forming in her vision, her body taking affront at her attempt to defy gravity.

“To reiterate,” Nadine puffed, “Still think this is a monumentally bad idea.”

Warm, soft lips kissed the inside of her thigh, making her sigh in delight. “Mmm.” Brynjolf grabbed Nadine’s arse firmly, and in the forefront of her vision she could see his cock twitch, a thatch of copper curls scattered around. “Let’s see how you feel in a moment.” His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tight, securely, and for a moment she allowed herself to sink into the sensation, priming herself to be picked up.

“Ready?”

Nadine allowed her legs to part a little further in invitation. “Ready, Sir.”

The growl that came from Brynjolf was all heat, somewhere between raw want and sheer determination. He gripped her tighter, taking her from the bed in one heaving lift. The noise that followed was something different entirely; a wounded animal, anguished and keening and regretful. Nadine was unceremoniously dropped onto the bed, landing face-first into the pillow, hearing Brynjolf curse and hiss through his teeth while Drevis muttered something in Dunmeris.

“You can say it,” Brynjolf said, voice fraught with pain. “You can say you told me so.”

Nadine scrambled up, still dazed and confused. “I’m not saying anything.” _I am thinking it._ Pain was etched into Brynjolf’s face, his usual cocky expression replaced with something much more fragile and vulnerable, and Nadine ached to cradle Brynjolf in her arms, to coo and soothe and take away all of his pain. “What happened?”

“Think I pulled a muscle in my back,” Brynjolf muttered, wincing. “Or I took the damned thing out. Forget I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Nadine bit her lip. There it was, underneath all the layers of anguish currently lining his face, under all the bluster and bravado and swagger he usually carried himself with. A man, painfully aware of his own mortality, and his own body’s limits. No longer a young thief, endlessly bounding through cities and holds without a care, pushing his body to seemingly nonexistent limits. Older now, and while he was still capable, there were limits and restrictions that hadn’t been there twenty years ago.

Those were pressing concerns, but they could wait.

“Drevis, I think we need a healer.” Nadine squeezed Brynjolf’s hand as she turned to Drevis. “Someone with more knowledge than Ulfberth or myself.” She sighed. “I know who might be able to help out, but—”

Drevis raised a brow. “Really? Him?”

“Got any other suggestions?” Nadine hadn’t meant her response to come out so barbed, and she forced herself to soften a little. “I just want what’s best for Bryn. And right now, that’s a qualified healer who already knows about our setup.”

The nod Nadine received in response told her Drevis had come round. “I’ll fetch something from Ingun for the pain before I go.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Cyrelian arrived, stone-faced and clad in his Restoration robes, Nadine had wrapped herself up in her own robes and did her best to wrap a towel around the more compromising parts of Brynjolf.

“Back injury, correct?” Cyrelian looked Brynjolf over with a raised brow. “Is ‘Know Your Limits’ not part of your social club’s credo? It should be.”

Brynjolf glowered. “Shut it, elf.”

“And I’d heard you were the charming one.” Cyrelian rolled up his sleeves, mouth curling ever so slightly. “Although I’m assuming you’re slightly more charming when you’re not doubled over in pain after attempting some truly foolish sexual position.”

Whatever response Brynjolf had died in his throat as ribbons of light danced around his abdomen, soaking into the injured flesh, glowing radiant and steadfast against his skin. It was lucky Cyrelian was as good a healer as he was, Nadine reflected, otherwise his acerbic comments might have earned him more than a dirty look.

“Do you folks not occasionally get tired of the whole ‘chain me up from the ceiling’ grandiose theatrics of all this?” Light continued to flow from Cyrelian’s fingers as he assessed them with that infuriatingly judgemental look of his.

“No, because we’re not all boring sods like you.” Nadine held Brynjolf’s hand, soothing him as best she could, watching as the light dimmed and faded and trickled out. “Feel any better?”

The nod that came from Brynjolf was reluctant, but it was a nod nonetheless. “Still hurts a bit, but it’s not as bad.” He turned to Cyrelian, grimacing like he was swallowing bitter medicine. “Appreciate it.”

Cyrelian scoffed. “I’m assuming your alchemist knows how to mix up some basic pain-relieving potions. I’d advise you take them, and refrain from any—” he sniffed, “ _sexual acrobatics_ in the near future.” This time, it was Nadine’s turn to draw daggers at the mer. He was deriving entirely too much pleasure from this incident.

As soon as he’d left, Nadine turned to Brynjolf, the most rueful look she could muster on her face. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find a more… sympathetic healer.” She uncorked a bottle of mead, pressing it to Brynjolf’s lips and feeding it to him in small, slow sips. She didn’t really need to do this, but somehow it felt right, caring for Brynjolf, tending to him.

He licked the errant liquid from the corners of his mouth, smiling wanly at Nadine. “Not your fault, lass.” He accepted another sip of mead. “You were right. Shouldn’t have tried it.” She could see the despondency behind Brynjolf’s eyes, that same note of melancholy that had been there earlier. “Too old for this kind of thing.”

“It was a bloody silly thing to start with,” Nadine said, insistent. “And you’re not old.”

“Older than you,” he said, morose.  

“And Drevis is older than the both of us combined. What’s your point?”

“Different for elves.” Brynjolf sighed. “Lucky bastards.”

Nadine stroked his hair, running the auburn strands idly between her fingers. “You’re the same age as everyone else in the Sanctum. Just because you can’t do some ridiculous thing from an ancient book doesn’t mean you’re old and decrepit, so stop it.” She kissed his forehead, running her thumb along the contour of his jaw. Hoping he’d listen. Hoping he wouldn’t argue.

The sullenness that clouded his expression lifted a little. “Being awfully good to me for someone who didn’t just get what they wanted.”

“Maybe I know it’ll pay dividends later,” Nadine quipped. “Or maybe I’m just rather fond of you.” A twinkle of something that was either amusement or interest sparked in Brynjolf’s eye, and Nadine immediately regretted being so forward, so honest. Her skin flushed. “I mean, you’re not completely awful company.”

Laughter bubbled from Brynjolf, lilting and hearty, and Nadine’s heart soared. “Aye, I’ve been told that once or twice.” He pulled her into an embrace, hand carding through her hair, smiling at her with a reverence she’d never really seen from him before. “Thanks, lass.”

They kissed, soft and slow, the faint earthiness of the potion Brynjolf had drunk still lingering just underneath the honeyed sweetness of the mead. She could taste him too, a flavour that was indescribable and intangible yet achingly familiar; something so powerful and delicious and utterly addictive that she wanted to drown in it. The scent of leather and earth and juniper on his skin set her own on fire, and Nadine kissed like someone starved, Brynjolf’s arms wrapping around her and pulling her closer as he returned the kiss with equal fervour. Stubble scratched against her jaw, but she barely felt the sting—only the warmth of their mouths and bodies pressed together, moving in tandem.

Nadine had to work hard to keep the pout from her kiss-swollen lips as they parted, Brynjolf running the material of her robes through his fingers with fire in his eyes.

“You’re about to make another terrible decision, aren’t you?”

Brynjolf grinned. “Maybe.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, any and all feedback is much appreciated. <3


End file.
